How I Said Goodbye
by ObsessiveFanboy
Summary: My first fic. This shows the Mother's funeral, so obviously it takes place a few years after the series ended. Mostly cannon with some retcons to the established cannon of the series (Not yet implemented into the story but as the additional information states this will be added if I decide to carry on with the fic).


So, this is my first fic. I started writing after watching the ending of season 9 for the fifth time. I know it's not finished, I am very self conscious so I started to doubt my writing, if I get some positive response I'll carry on. Any criticism is welcome and I'll try to take it on-board. Thank you for your time.

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In the main room of his house, Ted Mosby stood by a wall stacked high with the memorabilia of a happy life. Each polished shelf with its faded jade covering representing the two lives which had brought together and the two more which they had created. His fingers groped a path among the articles on the bottom shelf, they knew which path to take in order to avoid any contact, they had rehearsed this path since the sun had risen and for a half-hour before that. The tall antique clock in the centre of the uppermost shelf struck 9:00am. The black-clad shadow stopped running his fingers through the field of memories with a heavy sigh as if this cold breath was an order that bade the fingers stop their march and took up the object nearest his forefinger. A small metal camper-van. The figure burned brightly in the few streams of light which were brave enough to fight their way through the shutters; the figures' golden face was now faded, the once straight wheels were no longer aligned, and the past months tears had caused the little windows to become smeared. Replacing the figure back to its position, Ted moved out of the room to face the day he thought he would be ready for.

"Luke! Penny!" Ted called from the foot of the staircase in that voice that parents use when trying to show strength in front of their children, "Your mother wouldn't want you to be late!". In response to his father's call the aforementioned children appeared at the top of the stairs gazing down at their father with their blank reddened eyes. Their silhouettes against the grand, French window was as dark as the clothes their frames wore and the looks their countenances bore.

"Come on, if you hurry I'll tell you the story of how I met your mother." Trying to lighten the mood as ever.

"Dad, that'll take like nine years" retorted the nine year old Penny, fiddling with the faux-pearls inlaid on her newly purchased black dress as she led her silent sibling down each step, not letting go of his hand until they reached their father.

"Not today, Penny", then under his breath, "just like her mother". Opening the door, Ted soaked in the early morning Westchester sun which attempted to force its rays from behind the wall of oak trees; the brisk air kissed his cheek, causing his rough stubble to prick up, his only response was to let out a forlorn sigh and pull the fur collar of his charcoal overcoat closer to his neglected face. Before the group left the threshold, the boy who hadn't uttered a syllable for the past week grasped his father's hand with his own. A raven landed silently on the Mercedes', from his eyes the family looked like three of the dark riders on their way to meet their Brother for the last time. The raven took flight after a short gaze dropping a single black plume over the children's' heads which the mute Luke had absent mindedly seized.

"You know where to go". The now aged driver nodded his dark countenance in acknowledgement of the mourner's direction.

The journey was a silent and short one. The crunching of the gravel underneath the mechanical carriage was the only noise to be heard; not a single dove nor deer dared to make even the slightest disturbance upon the long gloomy drive. Inside the car, the three passengers clad in their mourner's raiment fought hard against the tears which taunted their eyes with promises of falling but never came.

As the car took a sharp left the spire of the church rolled into Ted's fixed gaze. Through the tinted window the church appeared as black as the grief which danced through Ted's heart. She played the crimson strings of the heart of her widower slave, recently crowned so by the immortal Crab, as if he were a Stradivarius, his strings tightened to their limits. Her bow was that of Penthos, the sonata she played blinded her slave. The next thing it knew, it was in the foremost pew beside his old friends and his children.

The church itself was in the neo-Gothic style, most likely 20th century, a post-war replica of some European church. The crimsons and golds of the antique windows mocked the depressed occasion. The light which they augmented with their colours highlighted the pale faces of the congregation with tones of passion, they tried in vane to disguise the forlorn atmosphere in the church. The only place the rays of light cast out from the window could be among friendly company was in the place where all the eyes in the room were staring, there they warmed the casket with their glow and bordered the rose wreath with their bodies, protecting the spirit of warmth from the grim reality which it faced.

The old friends to his left bade Ted many attempts at consolation, to no avail. He was flanked by his friends' pitiful whispers of "She 'll be missed", "She's in a better place", or "We're here for you" and his children's audible, futile attempts at holding back their tears, their mother always told to try to be strong even when nobody else is. She'd be so proud of them. Usually such a thought would bring a bright smile to this doting father's face. Not today. This thought caused the pools of his eyes - his wife always referred to them as such, he loved how poetic she was, it was one of the pieces that made up the mosaic of his love for her - to overflow, his cheeks flooded with pain and a single drop of overpowering emotion floated down his grim countenance to the downward facing corner of his mouth. The salty taste brought Ted back to his senses.


End file.
